


These Sorrows Make Me Old

by DaughterofProspero



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Angst, Babies, Infant Death, Motherhood, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofProspero/pseuds/DaughterofProspero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.<br/>Susan and she - God rest all Christian souls! -<br/>Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;<br/>She was too good for me: but, as I said,<br/>On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;<br/>That shall she, marry; I remember it well.<br/>'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;<br/>And she was wean'd - I never shall forget it..."</p><p>Still grieving for the loss of her own daughter, the new nurse arrives on the Capulet's doorstep.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	These Sorrows Make Me Old

It’s been six months since Susan died and the new wet nurse hasn’t so much as looked at a child in that time. A shriek of laughter from a ragamuffin in the streets, causes the air in her lungs to freeze. An impatient warble from some tyke in the market and a fresh spring of tears wells up. Yet here she is, on the doorstep of her new employer, her heart pounding so hard it’s giving her a headache.

She knows little of this abode apart from rumours. That the lady of the house is “youthful – _very_ youthful if you catch my drift”. That they’ll kill you if you so much as glance at their rival house. That the child she has been tasked to nurse was born amidst a street brawl – the screams of a mother in labour couldn’t be untangled from the battle cries in the alleys and piazza close by.

Catching her reflection in a pristine window, she gives herself a once-over – not impressed with the results. Her hair, though done up, is frayed; she is pale from leaving the house so little, and the bags beneath her eyes are dark enough to be bruises. Everyone says that you don’t get much sleep in the first year or so after giving birth. “You’re up at all hours!” “You’ll be exhausted!” The matronly warnings swim around in the nurse’s head, taunting her in their veracity. It’s true, she doesn’t sleep much. She’ll wake in the night thinking she hears Susan crying for her only to have it all rush back. It is those few seconds where she forgets that are the cruelest.

The sound of the door unlocking snaps the nurse back to reality and she composes herself as best she can in the two seconds before she is greeted by an anxious servant. The maid ushers her in and without so much as a “hello” directs her to the nursery. It is there where her new Madam awaits.

With mounting discomfort, the nurse follows the maid’s instructions. Steering herself through the posh hallways she is reminded of how disheveled she must look and smooths her dress down as she walks, making a mental note to try and mask her distinctive southern dialect. Upon arriving at the nursery she takes a deep breath, pushes all thoughts of small coffins from her mind, and enters.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” the lady of the house wheels around to face her new member of staff. Youthful indeed, she is a woman in title only; doe-eyed and scrawny. It’s no wonder they were so desperate for a wet nurse. With strident steps she crosses away from the bassinet and all but runs towards the nurse whom she eyes like a dying man might an oasis. She deposits a pitifully swaddled bundle into the arms of her still reeling nurse and babbles about needing to check up on something or other. The nurse hasn’t even finished nodding in acquiescence before Lady Capulet has rushed out the door and disappeared.

Stunned, the nurse takes in her surroundings. It is a lovely room – sunlight streaming through large windows, catching dust motes in mid-dance step. The walls are coloured lightly to compliment the sun’s natural warmth making the space seem even more inviting and open. A soft, ornate carpet rests undisturbed on the well polished wooden floor and the only real furnishings seem to be the essentials: A rocking chair, a bassinet, and a few stray toys.

A soft coo comes from the bundle which wriggles a little and it is only then the nurse registers what it is she is holding. A baby. A baby girl. Warm, and real, and alive.

With practiced efficiency, the nurse walks to the bassinet, gently places the baby inside and swaddles her – correctly this time. Safely swathed, the nurse busily tidies the toys, lining them up on the window sill and then returns to the bassinet. The baby is lifted into her new wet nurse’s embrace and rocked to sleep in the afternoon light.

The nurse sits swaying, (rocking herself as much as the baby) – mesmerized by the even breathing of the baby; disbelieving the subtle rise and fall as though it may stop at any moment.  Joyful emotions explode inside her for the first time in months, expelling the numbness that has held her hostage for so long. Teardrops sparkle on the blanket, it’s contents oblivious.

The shadow of the figures in the rocking chair lengthens as afternoon gives way to evening. Later the nurse will have to properly introduce herself to her new master, be given her duties, sort out her belongings, and the child will need feeding...But for a few minutes longer, she tells herself, it won’t do any harm to remain where she is, gazing down at the second chance named Juliet.

“I will not lose you, little one” she promises.

“I will not lose you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to be friends with the nurse. She's like The Golden Girls mashed into one renaissance lady.  
> And then tragedy.  
> Still. Juliet being how the nurse copes with losing her only child so young, AND THEN eventually losing Juliet too...fuck.  
> And young Lady Cap not having a clue what to do and bolting to take a nape or something seemed apropos. In my head Lord Cap wasn't even there when she gave birth, he was off fighting in the brawl. It was her, and a midwife stranger. Now I'm just using the end notes to expound on my headcanons. I have no regrets.  
> Layers and layers of sad to be had. (In a tragedy? Go figure..).
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
